Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Another Sneak Peak of my Next Release

When an earthquake flattens New York City, the devastation is phenomenal and loss of life beyond comprehension. The world is in shock.

More than that, it is the first sign.

The chosen few can see it.

A firefighter, newspaperman, thief, engineer, bride and a priest are all strangers across the country thrown together. All of them believe it is the beginning of the end. Together they work diligently to try to save humanity and stop the inevitable.

ALLENTOWN, PA

Harry Albright hadn’t seen the
confusion of a newsroom in many years. The pandemonium, the rush, the
adrenaline pumping. Of course, that was the reason Harry left his position as
Editor in Chief at the Atlanta Times. He had taken pride in that position because
he was the first black man to hold the prestigious ‘top dog’ spot. Harry worked
hard to get that job, moving from a mere grunt of a journalist to the
down-to-earth, frightening, and sometimes sarcastic man who ran it all. For
nearly twenty years, he held that job until his blood pressure grew out of
control. Seeking a quiet, peaceful editor’s position, he got what he needed
when he applied and got the post at the Allentown
Review.

However, it wasn’t until all the
phones were ringing off the hook, with no one to answer but him, that he
realized how much he missed it. Hanging up a phone on a far away desk, he
scurried his lanky body across the office to answer the phone on his own desk.
He was quick and agile for a man of sixty years. Though he was far from the
fitness king, Harry truly believed his mind kept him young - that and his four
children.

Bending as he reached for the
phone, he pulled up his black trousers as they nearly slipped off him, and
probably would have if he wasn’t still be wearing his pajama bottoms
underneath. Harry was a hot mess.

“Yeah, Albright speaking.” Harry
rolled his eyes as he plopped into his desk chair. “Yes, Rob.” He reached for a
cigarette as he listened. “You did? Handwritten?” Harry broke a slight smile.
“Well, did you fax it?” A pause. “Fax, Rob. Yes. I don’t have anyone here, I
don’t do that electronic mail stuff. You know that. Email, whatever. Fine. Stay
on the line while I pull it up.” Swirling his index finger around the hold
button, Harry pressed it then answered the other ringing line. “Albright
speaking.” He spoke while opening his computer. “Oh, June,” he said to his
wife. “Let me call you back.”

Focused only on his computer, Harry
located the message. It was from a young man who had applied for a position
with the paper the previous week, the young journalist who lived in Easton,
Pennsylvania, the one Harry said didn’t have enough experience then sent on his
way. Yet, Easton wasn’t that far from New York City, so Harry changed his mind
quickly about the young man. At three-thirty in the morning, Harry called and
told him, ‘you want your chance, cover that quake’. Now Harry sat, his reading
glasses perched across the bridge of his nose, reading the words of the
overzealous newcomer.

“What is this?” Harry spoke aloud,
then picked up the phone. “Rob. What is this?” Harry shook his head and lit his
cigarette. “Let me read your words and you tell me what is wrong with this?
‘The Statue of Liberty, like a jilted lover’s heart, lay broken in two in the New
York Bay. While Ellis Island lay lost beneath the now raging and debris filled
waters. Buried and gone like so many hopes and dreams that many once brought
there.’”

He paused to listen to the reporter
ramble. “Yes, I know it’s descriptive. But this isn’t fiction! I want you to
rework this immediately . . . never mind, I will.” Harry reached to hang up but
stopped. “Hey Rob, I need an estimated body count as soon as you can get one. I
know they aren’t talking numbers but . . .” Harry’s hand dropped. “You’re
kidding? One third? Rumored or confirmed? Well, confirm that, damn it. Then
chase me a human-interest story. Thanks.” Again, he tried to hang up and
halted. “Oh, and Rob. Thanks. Good job.”

As he hung up the phone, Harry
adjusted his hands on the keyboard. “Let’s see what I can do to you. You have
to be out for the afternoon edition. I can . . .” Another ring of the phone.
“Albright speaking.” He nodded his head as if the person calling could see.
“Excellent, Melissa, just what I wanted to hear. Get me those pictures as soon
as possible. Thanks. And uh, good job.” Harry reached over blindly, hanging up
the phone.

“Harry,” the soft, yet annoyed
woman’s voice called from the door to his office.

Harry stopped clicking his fingers
and looked up. “June.” He slightly smiled. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“You didn’t call me back.” She
walked further in and set down two cups of coffee. “I was concerned.”

“Aw June, I’m busy. I have phones
ringing off the hook. I have three stories I have to . . .” Harry smiled
brightly and stood. “June.” His demeanor changed. “Could you work on this for
me? Take out some of the flowery things this boy has written in here?”

“Oh, Harry, it’s been years since I
. . .”

“Knock yourself out.” Harry winked
and pulled out the chair for her. “I’ll just go and use another computer. Sit
down.” He patted the leather chair, grabbed his coffee, and kissed his wife on
the cheek as she scooted to his desk. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”

“Harry, I came to check on you, not
work. I’m worried about you. You were so ill last night. Did that quake shake
it from you or something, or are you still sick?”

“June,” Harry smiled. “I feel
great. My blood is pumping, I’m ready to go. Maybe it did rattle that migraine
from me. I don’t know. But I’ll tell you.” Harry pointed his finger then
grabbed his cigarette from the ashtray. “Whatever the reason, I’m not arguing.
This is big, June. Huge.” He spoke with excitement. “An earthquake in
Manhattan? What are the chances? Do you remember years ago, when the scientist
said it could happen. Do you remember that, June?”

June watched her husband pace as he
spoke enthusiastically. “Harry, this isn’t good news, you know that?”

“No. But it is big news. An
earthquake in Manhattan.” Harry moved to the door, snapping his fingers and
turning back. “What did I tell you when we felt that vibration this morning? I
told you it wasn’t some big truck going down our street. A big truck.” Harry
chuckled at that thought. “It was felt as far north as Albany and as far south
as Washington D.C. How about that? And . . . not only Manhattan, but the Bronx,
Brooklyn and Jersey City . . .” He swung out his arm, “Gone. At least one-third
of those areas completely flattened. And forget about ever going back there to
see the statue of Liberty. She’s . . . how did Rob put it, broken in two like a
heart. Something like that.” Harry shook his head. “And I’m a busy man, June. I
have work to do. Can you not keep me talking to you? Thank you.” Harry,
cigarette in one hand, coffee in the other, bolted to the door, sliding in a
stop before he left. “Oh, and can you pick up the phone for me, please?
Thanks.” Quickly, without any further delay, he moved into the next area.

June was left completely baffled,
head spinning in confusion and sitting in front of a computer. But June was
used to the way her husband rambled and acted. That was just Harry.

<><><><>

BROOKLYN, NY

Not a spot of Jude’s face wasn’t
covered in dirt. Even though it was bitterly cold, he broke a sweat, smearing
the soot. He worked relentlessly over a mound of debris that used to be a
neighboring apartment building. His one hand held tightly to the little fingers
that extended from the destruction, while his other hand removed large blocks
of concrete, grunting with every toss of stone. “Almost there,” he spoke. A few
more pieces and Jude saw the metal doorway. It had protected the child he
fought to free. It trapped yet shielded the child from the falling debris.
Releasing the tiny hand, Jude used his strength to carefully move the door.
There lay a small boy; Jude estimated him to be about four years old. He was
clad in his Batman pajamas, bloodied, crying, scared, and yet alive. “I have
you.” Jude reached down into the safety pocket and carefully lifted the child.
The moment he lifted the boy the child adjusted his body and wrapped his arms
tightly around Jude. “It’s okay,” Jude spoke soothingly, cradling the child and
carrying him to the Army tents set up a block away.

“I have another one, Major James,”
Jude told the uniformed doctor who worked on a woman. “It’s a child.”

The older doctor, covered with
blood, turned to Jude, his expression dropped. “Is he alive?”

“Yes. I think he’s fine. Just
scared. His arm is broken.”

Major James gave a slight smile.
“Could you take him to Lieutenant Crawford over there?” The doctor pointed.
“He’ll take care of him.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jude, still holding
tightly to the boy, edged by the doctor as he made his way through the maze of
cots.

The Major watched the tall man
dressed in his firefighter’s coat and boots walk past him, and then he then
noticed his legs, the dirty long john underwear the only thing covering them.
“Son,” Major James called out. “Son.”

Jude laid the boy on the table,
lifting his eyes to the call. He walked back over to the Major. “Yes?”

Major James had seen Jude when he
arrived two hours earlier. He had watched the fireman bring in four people, but
this was the first time he really looked at Jude. Bending down slightly, Major
James lifted the bottom of the jacket to make sure that he wasn’t wearing only
long john underwear. He then undid the top button of Jude’s jacket and looked
enough to see only Jude’s bare chest. “Son, where are your clothes?”

“I, uh . . . I only got out with my
boots, coat and underwear.”

“How are you feeling, Son?” Major
James asked.

“Fine, sir.”

“Feeling strong enough to continue
helping?”

“Yes, Sir, I do. As a matter of
fact . . .”

“Wanna stay strong enough to continue
to help?” the Major continued in his questioning.

“Sir?” Jude scratched his head.

“If you continue to work in this
weather without any clothes, you’ll be down with these people and no good to
us. Got that?”

“Yes, Sir.” Jude turned and headed
from the tent.

“Son, where are you going?” Major
James asked.

“To go back out and help.”

“Not without clothes, you don’t.
Take five minutes and go over to the supply truck.” Major James indicated.
“Tell them to give you some clothes and head gear.”

“But I have to . . .”

“Now, Fireman. Take five minutes
now,” the Major ordered.

A little intimidated by the stern
military man, Jude agreed and headed toward the parked truck. Leaving the tent
and stepping out into the destruction, the reality hit him. He hadn’t noticed
earlier because he was so busy, but he noticed now. He looked for it, the
brilliant and breathtaking skyline of New York City, a sight he had seen every
waking moment since he moved to Brooklyn. A sight he took for granted. And now
. . . a sight that was no longer there.